by Clara Bayard
“Of course he did,” I whispered, heart breaking for Dex. “I’m glad you called me. I’ll tell him, and have him contact you, okay?”
“Yes. There are arrangements to make, of course. I can handle most of it, but he should be involved.”
“Yeah. And I can help too.”
“There’s one more thing, dear.”
“Yes?”
“A reporter came to the hospital a couple of days ago asking questions. Wanted to know if they had the right Allen Winters. So now that he’s gone, I expect they’ll find out soon.”
“Yes, you’re probably right. Look, if someone bothers you, just have them call the band’s press team. You don’t have to say anything. You’ve got enough to handle right now.”
“Thank you, dear.”
“Anytime. Hold on, let me get you the number.” I scrolled through to find it and rattled it off to her. “If there’s anything else you need, feel free to call me. I’m going to wake Dex up now.”
“All right.”
I thought for a moment. “Karen, you know, I have an idea. You’re Dex’s family. I think he should hear this from you. Stay on the phone and I’ll get him. Then I’m still here to help him cope, but the news should come from you.”
“What a good idea. You’re a very thoughtful young woman.” Her words almost made me smile. Karen was middle-age at the oldest, but talked to me like she was a hundred years older than me. It was oddly sweet.
I walked back into the bedroom. Dex was still sleeping, now on his back with an arm flung across my side of the bed. I sat down next to him and held his hand. “Honey, wake up.”
He grunted a few times and rolled away from me. I spoke again, this time squeezing his fingers. That worked. He turned his head back to face me and blinked a few times.
“Becca? What’s going on? It can’t be time for the show yet.”
“Not yet. But I’ve got an important call for you. I need you to get up.”
The corner of one of his lips quirked up. “I can get up for you anytime.” He reached out a hand to touch me, but then his eyes widened as he looked at my face. “Something’s wrong.”
I nodded and he sat up, back against the pillows and headboard. “Tell me.”
I handed the phone over and stood up, giving him a tiny bit of space.
“Hello?”
I could track the words his aunt must be saying by the expression on his face. First confusion, then shock, then…something I couldn’t recognize.
“Yes, thank you,” he said before handing the phone back to me.
“Karen?” I asked, but there was no sound.
“She’s gone,” Dex said. “And so is he. One from the phone the other from the world.” His voice was flat, his face now impassive.
“Dex, honey. I’m so sorry.” I put the phone down and reached out to him. “Do you want to talk?”
He stared at me for a long moment. “Right now I want to take a piss.”
“I-uh-okay.” I stood there silently as he rose and went into the bathroom. I thought maybe he wanted some time alone, but he came back quickly.
“Since I’m up, do you want to get some breakfast?”
“Dex…”
“What?”
“I…your father died last night. You just want to go eat breakfast?”
“Will not eating breakfast bring him back to life?”
“No, of course not. That isn’t what I meant.”
He sighed, rubbing his head. “I know. Becca, stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like I’m some kind of rabid wild animal you best be wary of. I’m fine.”
“How can you be fine?”
“I just am. I’m not you. I don’t have all this unresolved shit about my father. I said goodbye to him when we visited. That was enough. I didn’t expect to ever see him again, and now I know I never will. End of the story.”
“I don’t believe you really feel that way.”
His jaw tightened. “Don’t tell me how I feel.”
“I’m not!” I paled. “I’m sorry; I don’t know what the right thing to say is.”
Dex walked over to me and put his hands on my shoulders. “You don’t need to say anything. In fact, maybe we shouldn’t talk at all. If you want to make me feel better, there are other ways.” His hands slipped over my shoulders and down my back.
I stepped out of the embrace. “Dex, I don’t think this is the right time for sex.”
His voice went low and sensual. “It is always the right time for sex.” He looked down my body in a way that made me want to cover myself, even though I was in pajamas.
“Stop it, please.”
“Why? Don’t play the blushing virgin with me. That ship has sailed, as they say.”
“Dex,” I gasped.
“Come on. Don’t you want me?” He sidled closer again, this time tucking a thumb under my chin to make me look into his face.
“That’s not the issue. I just think we should talk. Or maybe I should leave you alone.”
“Bullshit, Becca.”
“What?”
His other hand grabbed my wrist. “You asked what to do to help me and I told you. But if you’re going to go back to being a prude, you can just go ahead and fuck off.”
I blinked back tears, the pain where he squeezed my wrist nothing in comparison to the pain in my heart. I yanked away from his grasp and fumbled over to grab some clothes. “I-I’ll just give you some time.”
“Whatever,” he drawled before going back into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.
“Well,” I said to the empty room. “That went well.”
I changed quickly, grabbed my phone, and headed out. I wouldn’t let myself think about the things Dex had said to me. It was grief, and him trying to avoid whatever feelings were churning up inside him.
I walked down the hall and knocked on Ryan’s door. He answered, phone in hand.
“Rebecca, what is it?”
“Sorry to both you, but I just got the news. Dex’s father died.”
“Oh. That’s terrible. How is he doing?”
I shrugged. “Denial right now, I think. I would have let him tell you, but I assume we need as much lead time as possible to cancel tonight’s show. I don’t know when the service will be yet, but he’s going to need a while to recover and also deal with logistics.”
“Let me stop you right there. I know whatever relationship you have with Dex is close. But I’ve known him for years. He’s not going to want to cancel. Being on stage will help him get through this.”
“I-Ryan, I don’t mean to be rude, but he needs to take some time to deal with this.”
“That isn’t your decision to make, is it?”
“No. Of course not. I’m just trying to do the right thing for him.”
He snorted. “You mean the thing you want him to do.”
“No.” Tears stung my eyes again. “Look, whatever Dex decides, I’ll support. I just thought you should know.”
“Yes, fine. Thanks for informing me.”
“Sure. But listen, if-”
I never got a chance to finish that thought before he shut the door in my face.
“Zero for two,” I muttered, heading back to our room.
But when I went inside, it was empty. The bathroom, too, and I saw Dex’s shoes were gone from the floor where he’d kicked them off. Since Ryan’s room was in the opposite direction from the elevators, it would have been easy for Dex to leave while I was down there.
Unsure what to do, I pulled our suitcases out of the closet. Whether he decided to go back to Bristol or on to Copenhagen, we’d be flying out the next day, and I might as well get some things ready.
I packed up the room, took a shower and got dressed, and had two cups of coffee, and Dex still hadn’t returned. I sent him a text message and decided to get to work instead of sitting around worrying.
By the time I had to get over to the club, I’d spent a lot of tim
e doing not much of anything, and felt worse than before. I had no idea where Dex was, or if he’d even turn up for the show.
I managed to grab Matthew and we shared a cab over to the venue so we could talk privately.
“I assume you heard the news,” I said.
“Yeah. It’s sad.”
“Right. Well, have you talked to Dex today? He’s not returning my calls or messages.”
He shook his head. “Mine either.”
“I’m worried. Are you?”
Matthew shrugged. “Not sure.”
“Okay.” This might have been our longest conversation to date, but he wasn’t being helpful at all. “I’m going to keep calling him. You let me know if you hear anything?”
“Sure.”
I sighed and turned to look out the window. When we arrived at the club we went inside together and then split up. Matthew waited for the rest of the band by the stage, and I scampered over to check in with Ryan.
* * *
A while later sound check had come and gone without Dex, and no one I asked had heard from him at all. I was starting to freak out. Ryan was pissed and the club’s manager livid, but I was just worried. Dex was out there somewhere, alone, in a city where he didn’t know anybody, thinking and feeling who knows what. I wanted to be able to help him, hold him. Get through this together. But I couldn’t do that if I couldn’t find him.
I left the venue for a few minutes, heading down the street to a little coffee shop we’d found the day before. I ordered a drink and waited for it to be prepared, turning my attention to the television. Because most of the patrons were going to the show, it was showing the English news channel. And a story about Dex’s father’s death.
“My god,” I whispered. Now the whole world would know, and poor Dex hadn’t had a moment to deal with it. The story speculated whether or not the tour would end, if this loss would ruin the band’s trajectory. Like any of that mattered. I was fuming and sipping my coffee when my phone rang. I looked at the number and was disappointed to see it was Ryan.
“Hello?”
“Get back here, Rebecca. Your boyfriend has finally arrived.”
I almost yelled with relief. “Be there in a minute.”
I ran back to the club, barely giving the door guy time to check my all-access pass. At full speed I went to the dressing rooms and found the whole band surrounded a prone form on the floor. Dex.
“What happened?” A million terrible possibilities flashed through my mind.
Rick grunted. “Nothing. He’s just drunk off his ass.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah.”
I went into automatic problem-solving mode. “Okay, everyone leave us alone for a minute. I need ice-cold water and a gallon of coffee.”
Joe shoved the other guys out of the room and then came back in. “Whatever you’re gonna do, hurry. We told Ryan Dex got here, but didn’t mention what state he’s in.”
“Got it. Thank you.”
He nodded, looked at me with pity, and left.
I slid down to the floor, raising Dex’s head to rest in my lap. The stench of liquor on him made me a little queasy, but it didn’t matter.
“Dex,” I said loudly, shaking his arm. “Dex, can you hear me?”
He groaned softly, but didn’t open his eyes. I scanned down his body and saw a few scrapes and tears, as if he’d fallen down quite a bit. Worried about a concussion, I dug gently through his dark hair, but didn’t feel any bumps or signs of bruising.
Apparently my touch helped, though. His eyes fluttered open and then squinted. “Too bright.”
I let out a panicked laugh. He spoke. That was a really good sign.
“Honey, you really scared me. Where have you been all day?”
“Drinking.”
“That much I could tell. Where?”
“Everywhere. You’d be surprised how many places there are to get drunk in the middle of the day. And now that I’m a celebra-cebret-shit, famous guy, lots of people bought me drinks.”
Now that he was safe, and generally okay, I let the anger I’d been holding back spring to the surface. “Well that’s lovely. So glad you had a nice day. But you’ve got a show in less than an hour. And everyone’s been worried sick.”
He sat up quickly, but then leaned against me as his face went green and his eyes unfocused. “Don’t want worry. I’m fine. How many fucking times do I have to tell you I’m fine?”
“This is fine? You’re completely wasted. I don’t even know how you got here.”
“Simple. I…well, I’m not sure. But I’m here. Ready to rock and roll.” He cackled, and then held a hand up to his forehead. “Ouch.”
I pushed him so he rested against the wall instead of me, and got up. “You’re being such an asshole right now.”
“So what? My father is dead. I can be an arse, asshole if I want.”
“That’s true. But I don’t have to stand here and watch you do it.”
“You wouldn’t leave me.”
“I will. When you’re ready to talk and deal with this, I’ll be there. But I won’t stand by while you drink yourself into oblivion.”
“Bull. You won’t go because you love me and you know I need you.”
I wanted to punch him. And hug him. And tell him, “Yes, I do love you, but I hate you right now.”
But I didn’t do any of those things. I put my cup of coffee down on the table and walked out the door without saying a word.
Outside I ran into Matthew. He was holding a whole carafe of coffee and a few bottles of water.
I smiled at him. “Thank you. Take that in to him if you want. I need a break.”
“Okay. Hey, wait a second.”
I turned around. “What is it?”
“He’s crazy in love with you. Whatever happens, don’t give up on him.”
Shaking my head, I sighed and continued down the hallway.
* * *
Calling the fact that Dex managed to play the show a miracle felt like the understatement of my life. His performance was far from perfect, but some combination of a little sleep, a lot of coffee, and the deafening noise sobered him up enough to get through the set without embarrassing himself. I watched from the wings, holding my breath most of the time.
Most shows Dex was magnetic and constantly in motion. Playing off of Joe and the others, drawing the audience into his music effortlessly. This time was different. He got through the songs fine, but there was no action. He stood in one spot and connected with no one. But considering the state I’d found him in, it was a triumph of professionalism. Relatively speaking.
Once the encore was over, he headed out the back and into the waiting van. I made eye contact with Ryan to make sure he saw I was leaving too, and followed.
“Jesus, please not another lecture,” Dex said darkly as I climbed up and sat next to him.
“I just wanted to see how you’re feeling.”
“Terrible. But I’ll get a few shots in me and be fine.”
“Don’t you think a good night’s sleep would be better?”
“Bloody hell, Becca. Don’t you ever let up?”
I gritted my teeth but didn’t speak.
Dex groaned, pushed past me, and walked out of the van. He took a few steps and then turned back. “A million times I’ve told you you’re not on duty with me. I don’t need you to organize me, fix me. Why can’t you just be with me?”
“I can. But this isn’t you.”
“What if it is?”
“Then I’ve been fighting to make us work for no reason. I know you’re hurting, but digging yourself a deeper hole isn’t going to help. You need to talk. To be surrounded with people who love you. You have to let us in.”
He stared at me, and for a second his eyes softened. But just as quickly, they went cold again. “Not tonight I don’t,” he said, and walked away. It was becoming a pattern with us, and one I didn’t care for one bit.
Chapter Eight
I didn’t
wait up for him that night. And in the morning, when it was time to go to the airport, I didn’t expect him to show, and he didn’t. A part of me worried if he was dead in a ditch somewhere, but I knew he wasn’t. He was either still drinking, or sleeping it off somewhere.
After making sure everyone else was prepared for the flight and saying a real goodbye to Liss, I took Ryan aside. For once, he actually listened to what I had to say.
“Are you sure this is the right course of action?”
I nodded. “I have to try, at least.”
“All right. I’m trusting you with this. Keep me posted and we’ll work out the details.”
“Thank you, Ryan. For believing me.”
“I may not agree with all of your choices, Rebecca. But I acknowledge you know what you’re doing. So do it.”
“I will.”
He sighed and turned to get in the vehicle with the others. I stood in front of the hotel, watching as the van pulled away, and then went back upstairs.
A few hours later the door opened and Dex came in.
“Why are you still here?” he asked.
“Waiting for you.”
“I didn’t ask you to do that.”
“No, you didn’t. Just like you didn’t ask me to smooth things over with Ryan and the other members of your band. But I did that too. Or assure your aunt that you’d be in touch soon. But I did.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m stupid. And a fool. I love you and there’s nothing I won’t do to help you, even when you won’t help yourself.”
He pulled a bottle of something out of a pocket and took a swig. “Fuck, who knew when my mother died I’d get another.”
“I’m not trying to mother you. I’m just giving you one last chance to keep from messing up your whole life in a way you can’t fix.”
“You don’t know anything about my life.”
“Fuck you, Dex. I know everything about your life. I am here. I have been here.”
“Maybe I don’t want you here.”
“Then tell me to go. Break up with me.”
“No!”
I approached him. “Why?”
“I don’t know. I…I don’t want you gone. I just want you to stop.”
“Stop what?”
“Stop caring so much. Stop trying to make me well. I’m not. I’m sick. Poisoned from birth and slowly dying. And you can’t make that different. All you do is push and pull me, make me love you, need you. Make me want to be better. Be something you deserve. But I can’t.”